


let me let go

by krafty



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Diego Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Diego Hargreeves Whump, Diego Hargreeves is Bad at Feelings, Diego Hargreeves-centric, Drowning, Gen, Hurt Diego Hargreeves, Please Be careful, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, rant basically, second power, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:34:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27340558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krafty/pseuds/krafty
Summary: short vent, rlly bad, idk if u should even read thisWARNINGS: SUICIDE ATTEMPT, SELF HARM, HARMFUL THOUGHTS//Diego's world is gray. He wants it to stop.Little does he know that drowning doesn't work on him.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	let me let go

The world is a dull gray. The sun doesn’t shine like it used to, the birds don’t sing their cheerful songs anymore. What used to be bright blues and gorgeous yellows, popping reds and savory oranges, beautiful violets and bleeding fuschias—all of the colors, every single fucking color— is dull. Empty. God must’ve seen what He’d created and turned away in shame.

It would make sense.

The colors are there but they mean nothing. All Diego can see is the black creeping its way into every painting, into every cornerstone, into every second of life. The things he used to enjoy seem so pointless in the grand scheme of things. Even the bigger picture, the _biggest_ picture, is cracked under his intense scrutiny.

Because it’s not worth it. Nothing is worth it. He’ll never be worth it. Nothing is worth it and he doesn’t want to live anymore because what’s the fucking point and maybe it would just be _easier_ to fade into the background like that until nothing exists and he doesn’t exist and no one will remember him and that’s fine because they’d spit on his image if they knew who he _really was—_

Simply put? He wants to die.

Ha, what a strange way to feel. Wanting to disappear forever, to envelop himself in the big black empty nothingness he likes to call Death. It’s always there, stalking him like a shadow. Sometimes it’s so close he can feel its hot breath tickling his neck. Sometimes he can’t even see it, can’t even feel it, doesn’t even know if it was ever there.

When he catches a glimpse of the world he used to know, when he smiles so wide like he does, it feels like he could be normal. Like this could last forever.

But the world flips a switch and he’s on the ground, sobbing his heart out again. Biting his knuckles until they bleed so no one hears the screams inside. So he doesn’t make a sound as the tears slip down his face.

Today, the world is black. The world is so black and dull and empty and meaningless. His mind is foggy, he’s on autopilot, waving his arms in front of his face and trying not to collide with anything.

He wants to yell for help, he wants to scream and shout and light a fire and burn this whole fucking forest down to the ground so he can _see_ again, and maybe the fog will lift when the trees die off, and maybe someone will find him and pull him out before it gets to that point, and.

And no one is coming. He’s stranded in his own head.

Like always.

* * *

The darkness consumes. It overtakes him some days. Like today. It takes over so much that he can’t see the light. He can’t see the good, he can’t see the happiness, he can’t see the warm things he used to love. It’s all gone and _he can’t get it back._

His power is throwing things. Useful for defense, maybe, but he hasn’t been good enough since he was born. He hasn’t been enough since that fateful day in October some odd years ago.

He’s never been enough. Once a failure, always a failure. That’s how his damn life works.

He’s in his room. His arms are covered but he doesn’t feel a thing. The voices are still talking loud over the only one that ever has common sense.

_You deserve this. You deserve to die. No one on this entire planet wants you; your dad doesn’t even want you. Your mom will forget about you soon enough; having seven children does that. Just do it, weak ass bitch. Just fill up that damn bathtub and finally let go. It’s what you’ve wanted this whole time._ _Because you’re fucking weird, and you want to die._

_So go ahead._

_Do. It._

* * *

The bathtub is filled with scalding water, steam rolling off it in waves. He sticks a single toe in before melting in it, sinking sinking _sinking_ and he’s in.

His head goes under and he tells himself he’s going to stay under for just a little while. Just enough to gasp for breath and come back up and maybe regret it.

But nothing is happening. No pain, no black dots in his vision, no _nothing._

And it’s weird, the disappointment he feels. Because maybe this is some sick, fucked up joke. He’s a fucked up joke.

Of course the world doesn’t want him to have an escape. Of course he can’t die right. Of _course._

It shouldn’t be surprising.

When he resurfaces, water dripping down his face, he reads the clock. It’s been over an hour.

No one even looked for him. No one even cared. No one… no one…

…he didn’t die.

And it feels so horrible, to have this second power, because _he doesn’t want it._

How’s he even supposed to explain how he’d discovered it? “Oh, no big deal, was just trying to kill myself and realized I couldn’t.” Fucking stupid.

He dries himself off, feeling like shit. Feeling tired. He climbs into bed and curls up and just sleeps because he can’t deal with this shit.

Sleep comes easy. The only thing that does.

It’s a temporary escape from the cruel world he’s come to know. And that _has_ to be good enough.


End file.
